


A Snip in Time

by catpoop



Series: Sheith Month 2017 [4]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Hairdresser Keith, M/M, SheithMonth2k17, Shiro's Daughter, Single Parent! Shiro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-12-11 10:31:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11712585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catpoop/pseuds/catpoop
Summary: Sheith Month '17 - 6/8: HaircutShiro's daughter is desperately in need of a haircut. And Shiro? In need of something to tide him over the struggle of single parenthood





	A Snip in Time

**Author's Note:**

> s3 ruined me. also how do people post a fic a day idk
> 
> UPDATE: omg look at this cute art by yongjae37 ;0; https://twitter.com/YongjaeThirty7/status/924212909701517313  
> screams

After a week of unsuccessfully ignoring the problem, Shiro resigns himself to the fact that Ame’s hair is too long to manage. She’s only five, so that means Shiro has to clean up the puddles of water her long mop leaves around the house or else chase her down after every shower, towel in hand.

Which means a visit to the hairdresser’s. Which means convincing her to sit still for an hour or however long it takes. Shiro rubs his face in tiredness.

“Ame! Ame, where are you?”

… She’s crouched under his bed, snickering when he reaches an arm to tug her out. 

“No one’s here!” She shrieks, attaching to Shiro’s arm like a barnacle as he wrenches her out with great effort. The moment her wide grin comes into view, Shiro stumbles backwards, the little devil clawing her way up his arm and side koala-like.

“Whoa, careful!” 

Ame ignores him, until he plucks her off his waist and sets her down on the bed. “Okay, time to get dressed – we’re going out.”

“I want ice-cream!”

“Um. Maybe later?”

Ame immediately takes that as a positive, chattering and kicking her legs as Shiro tries to slip a miniscule (to him) set of clothes onto her wriggling body.

She runs ahead of him all the way to the bus-stop, the very picture of carefree and a tad hyperactive, while Shiro frantically tries to lock the door and fix his appearance (his hair looks like something an animal would nest in) and chase her down at the same time.

She sticks her tongue out at him but promises to hold his hand during the journey, fingers warm and tiny in his grip. Bus trips are usually relaxing, the blur of scenery outside enough to whisk his current worries away – but after Ame appeared in his life, Shiro has had to keep track of her for every waking second. He knows how slippery the little hand can be, how easily her small figure disappears into a crowd.

“If you sit still, Daddy will buy you an ice-cream today. And tomorrow.” Shiro chides, and Ame immediately stops kicking her legs, turning wide eyes on him.

“Really?”

“Yup.” He didn’t specify how long she had to sit still for, but hopefully the ice-creams are enough of an incentive. She obediently holds his hand out of the bus and the short walk to the hairdresser’s, and Shiro breathes a silent exhale of relief.

The weekend crowds the street, and the packed interior of the shop reminds him that he didn’t even make an appointment.

 _Shit_.

His failure as a parent and functioning adult hits him like a sack of bricks. Drooping, Shiro steps into the shop, tugging Ame behind him and spotting his favourite stylist at once. Lance waves at him, scissors in hand.

“Hey, Shiro!”

Shiro lifts his free hand, awkwardly. “Hey. I’m just here for my daughter. Um – are you guys really busy?”

The four customers waiting by the entrance answer his question, Lance’s distracted nod a further emphasis.

“You lookin’ for anyone specific? _Moi_?” He somehow manages to wink at Shiro whilst snipping at the customer’s dark tresses. Shiro rolls his eyes.

“No.” He admits, eyeing Ame’s simple cut (probably his own handiwork, if his memory serves him right). “Anyone’s fine.”

“Cool, just –” Lance breaks off to yell vaguely at the other end of the store, “Keith’s free, right? Get his ass over here,” before turning back to Shiro. “Just wait a mo’?”

All the other stylists look pretty busy, and with all the customers in line, Shiro is surprised to see this Keith emerge from the hidden depths of the shop and lead him and his daughter to a free seat. Maybe that’s saying something about his skill compared to everyone else, but the sooner he can get Ame her ice-cream the happier everyone will be.

Shiro tells her to sit down. She sits.

Keith looks a little scruffy around the edges and in need of a haircut himself. “So – uh – what’s it gonna be, sir?”

“Just a trim. One or two inches?” Shiro replies from where he’s sat near Ame. The chair they offered him is tucked between two salon chairs, and Shiro tries to arrange his limbs so he’s not too obviously in anyone’s personal space.

“‘Kay,” Keith drawls, before taking a moment to tie his … what must be a mullet, up. Suddenly, and without explanation, Shiro feels like half a lung is sneaking up his windpipe and he coughs desperately. 

Ame stares at him.

“Daddy, Daddy – are you okay? You look red.”

Shiro turns redder, out of embarrassment, as Keith arches a stern brow. “Yeah, no, I’m fine. Thanks, sweetheart.”

She continues to scrutinise him with scarily intelligent eyes until Keith distracts her by draping a sheet over her shoulders and tucking a towel into her collar.

Keith visibly stiffens when she turns to look at him, as though he’s never seen a child before. “Uh. Hey. Can you get up for me?”

“Why?”

The young man flinches under Ame’s interrogating gaze and Shiro feels a pang of sympathy for him.

“Uh – we need to wash your hair?”

“I don’t want to! Daddy –”

Shiro sighs; makes (and promptly breaks) eye contact with the flustered-looking man in front of him. “Listen to the nice man, okay? Don’t you want your hair to look neater?”

Ame mulls the question over with all the gravitas a five year old can muster, and eventually clambers down from her seat.

“Okay.”

Shiro cracks an apologetic smile towards Keith, who promptly dashes off without more than a dip of his head. Shiro follows him to the opposite end of the store, Ame for once not skipping in front of him.

“What’s wrong?”

She pouts up at him. “Do I have to have to have to?”

“It’s just washing your hair. It’ll smell really nice afterwards, promise.”

“But the strange man!” Shiro watches, horrified, as she directs an accusing finger at Keith. Who’s waiting for her to sit down and very clearly watching the two of them. 

“I’m sure Keith is nice. You can trust him.” Shiro nervously darts a look towards Keith, whose expression freezes.

“Y-Yeah.” He stalls, an adorably confused look on his face. Shiro nearly keels over. “You can trust me.”

Ame declares her reluctance with an emphatic “Hmph,” and Shiro resorts to physically setting her down in the recliner.

“Lie down and relax, okay? Just think about the ice-cream.” She immediately stills, and Shiro curses for condemning his future self to hours of sugar-high child. At least Keith looks a little grateful to be allowed to get on with his job, turning on the hot water and rubbing shampoo into the wet mess Shiro has had to constantly deal with alone.

“I hope it isn’t too much trouble,” Shiro mumbles abruptly, “She can be a bit of a handful sometimes.”

“Oh, um – it’s fine, sir.” Keith swiftly replies, fingers working up a lather and eyes focused distinctly on the task at hand.

Shiro tries not to look perplexed, but it creeps into his voice regardless. “You don’t need to call me sir. Just – Shiro.”

Keith’s gulp is audible even over the hubbub in the shop. “O-Okay.”

Maybe he’s new or something, which explains why he was hiding out of sight when Shiro came in. Shiro stumbles to fix the awkward tension that’s crept into the air.

“I mean, I’m not mad or annoyed or anything. It’s just – strange, I guess.”

Keith gulps again as he works on rinsing out the shampoo. “I understand.”

Nimble fingers swiftly wrap Ame’s hair up into a neat tower atop her head as Shiro fumbles for something to say. Lance is usually quick to start up a conversation, reeling Shiro into an emphatic series of shrugs and nods and forcing the hairdresser side of him to chastise the behaviour.

Instead, Keith is silent, allowing Shiro to appreciate the way his fingers card through wet hair and reach for a comb and pair of scissors.

“Two inches?” Keith looks to him for confirmation.

“Yeah.” Ame startles a little at his voice, and Shiro coughs. “So – uh – Keith. Are you new? I haven’t seen you around, or heard anything from Lance.”

Lance usually spills only the most embarrassing things about his co-workers, and Keith’s expression makes it very clear he knows. “I hope Lance never finds anything to say about me.”

Shiro snickers. “Just don’t do anything embarrassing. Ever.”

Keith’s cynical expression is enough to summon Lance from wherever he was lurking in the store, and he hollers at Keith. “Hey, mullet-head! Did you nab my scissors – I swear …”

“Probably misplaced them again,” Shiro mutters, as Keith responds with an angry negative.

“Of course he did.”

“Oh yeah – why the mullet?” Shiro thinks of Lance’s sudden interjection. And it’s hard not to stare at the soft-looking little ponytail at the base of Keith’s skull. 

His tone isn’t intentionally harsh, but Keith takes it as such. “Why not?” A challenge flares in his eyes as he stares at Shiro, hands still working away at Ame’s hair.

“It’s not that – common, now?” Shiro gulps, kind of scared of the short fireball in front of him, sharp implements in hand. “I mean, your hair looks nice tied up. Like that.”

Keith blinks; reddens. “Hm. Thank you.” He turns back to his work with unwavering concentration, tensing at Shiro’s soft _no problem_.

Sometimes Shiro wonders why anyone ever let him out on his own to spout embarrassments; why his mother isn’t watching his tongue like before; curses adulthood. But rather to raise Ame as an adult than a fumbling teenager. He softens at the sight of his sweet daughter kicking her legs in the seat.

“Haha – sorry if I’ve made this awkward? I don’t want to distract you from your job.”

For some reason, Keith’s ears light on fire as his eyes nervously dart to Shiro. “It’s not awkward,” he blurts. “Not distracting.”

\-----

It’s distracting. _He’s_ distracting.

Keith’s hands tremble imperceptibly as he eyes the languid man sitting near him, talking softly to his daughter and smiling at him when he notices Keith’s hesitant stare. Keith flinches.

He’s new here; had a little training, and one of his first customers is this – blindingly attractive specimen? Lance has to be shitting him. He knows Keith is bad at talking, especially to important-looking customers. 

Keith hurries up with his daughter’s hair, to faster see Shiro out of the store and stop his heart from leaping out of his chest.

Luckily, conversation seems to come easier to Shiro, if not to Keith. (Not that his smooth voice makes concentrating any easier.)

“Wow – I haven’t seen Ame this calm in a long time. Are you good with children?” Both of them know Keith has been doing little to interact with the girl, and he frowns.

“Um. Not really. I took care of some kids once –” The younger kids at the orphanage hadn’t exactly flocked to him like they did to some of his peers, but Keith supposes it counts somewhat.

“Oh? That’s sweet. You should teach me your kid-wrangling ways – you wouldn’t believe how hard it is to raise her –” Shiro falters, looking embarrassed. “I mean, I hope this isn’t too personal.”

“What about the missus?” Keith asks, ignoring Shiro almost entirely.

“The –? Oh, there isn’t one.”

That doesn’t sound real, not for someone built like Shiro, with his soft eyes and voice and adorable daughter. Keith swallows, hesitantly. “Oh.”

“Yeah – just the usual fallout that comes with having kids too early.” Shiro gives him a lopsided smile, and Keith doesn’t know what to say. His own mother might’ve had a teenage pregnancy herself – not that he knew either parent for long enough to properly know.

“… It’s good that you’re caring for her.”

“I just hope I’m doing a good enough job.”

“You are.”

Shiro’s genuine smile of gratitude is enough to make Keith feel faint.

\-----

He rushes to Lance the moment Shiro’s left the shop, daughter in tow.

“Lance, Lance!”

Lance turns to him in concern. “What’s _your_ problem?”

“Who was – that. That guy.”

“Why?” Lance’s smirk is a lot more irritating than usual.

“Just – curious.” Keith fumbles for an excuse, even as he feels his poorly-constructed façade crashing down. “His daughter looked familiar.”

Lance isn’t fooled. Not at all. “I know you, mullet-head. You don’t do children. You didn’t even recognise me from high school when you applied for the job!”

That’s true. “Okay, but – can you just tell me who he is?”

“ _Why?_ Teell me.”

“No!” Keith’s negative isn’t very convincing, not when his ears light up like a beacon. Lance jeers at him.

“Someone has a crush on Mr. Tall Dark and Handsome?”

“No.”

“Suure. Well if you ever want my buddy’s number, just let me know.” Keith assumes he’s referring to Shiro, if only because Lance is friends with anyone and everyone on Earth. “Now off to work with you. Shoo!”

Keith skulks off.

\-----

He tries to resist the urge, because he _knows_ Lance is going to tease him for weeks. And because Shiro might be creeped out by the idea of strangers messaging him.

But Keith is a weak man. Made weaker so by sculpted biceps and perfect eyeliner. After a torturous day at work, he comes crawling to Lance.

“Can I … have his number?”

“HA!” Lance yells in his face, before promptly pulling out his phone and reading a string of numbers. Keith scrambles to find his own phone. 

“Enjoy!” Lance grins. “Ah, young love.”

Keith is too focused on saving the new contact (one of few) to snap at him.

\-----

Shiro isn’t one to receive a lot of texts, for a young adult. Maybe social isolation comes naturally with fatherhood. So the sudden ping! and resultant notification take him by surprise – Shiro fumbles to reach for his phone, frowning at the unknown number.

_Hi, this is –_

“Keith?”

**Author's Note:**

> thank for reading <3
> 
> @swummeng-geys.tumblr.com  
> twitter: @hashtag_yikes


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